Chapter 3 The Shadow between Us

Callum Maddox knew how to disappear.

He'd done it for eleven months now-ghosted from premieres, sidestepped press junkets, dodged contract renewals. It was almost an art form, really. People called it a breakdown. A burnout. The price of fame.

It wasn't.

It was strategy.

It was protection.

But for the first time since he walked away from Hollywood's blinding stage lights, Callum felt something he hadn't in a long time.

Panic.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenched as he turned onto a side street and pulled into the underground garage below the hotel. His phone buzzed again. Another missed call from Lena.

He'd only left the suite for twenty minutes-to meet a private investigator he trusted, a man who specialized in digital tracing. Callum had shown him the video. The Lisbon footage. The message. No signature, no metadata. Whoever had filmed them knew what they were doing.

But something the investigator said stuck in his head like a splinter.

"It's not just surveillance. This feels intimate. Familiar. Like they know your rhythms. Your blind spots."

That was the moment he knew.

Owen.

It always came back to Owen.

They'd grown up in a house filled with silence. Their mother, distant and brittle, used compliments like currency and punishment like punctuation. Owen had always been the charmer. Callum, the shadow. But after their father died and the trust fund changed hands, Owen had changed too-sharp-edged, controlling, manipulative.

And when the scandals broke-when young women came forward with stories of contracts rewritten, favors traded, and threats made-Callum had paid their silence fees and vanished into guilt.

Owen had disappeared too. Or so Callum thought.

Until now.

The thought of Owen anywhere near Lena made Callum's blood run cold.

He took the service elevator up to the penthouse. Quiet. Fast. No eyes. When the doors opened, the hallway felt wrong. Too still. The air heavier somehow.

He pushed open the suite door, bracing for what he might find.

Lena was sitting on the floor by the window, knees tucked to her chest, the glow from the muted television casting blue shadows across her face. She looked up as he entered, and in that instant, he saw it-the crack in her composure. The fear she'd tried to mask before.

He knelt in front of her. "Lena."

She didn't speak at first.

Then: "I saw him."

Callum's stomach dropped. "Who?"

She didn't need to say it.

He already knew.

"Owen?" he whispered.

She nodded.

His breath left his body in one slow, fractured exhale. "Where?"

"Room 1212." Her voice was flat, distant. "He texted me. Told me to come alone. I thought it might be... a setup. But I went."

Callum closed his eyes.

"What did he say?"

"That you built a lie around me. That he's going to burn it down."

Callum looked away, jaw working.

"I should have told you more," he said finally. "I thought if I kept you away from that part of my life, you'd be safe."

"Safe doesn't exist anymore," she said. "Not with him back."

He reached out and took her hand. "He's dangerous, Lena. And smart. The kind of smart that's always five steps ahead. He manipulates people until they don't even know they're being used."

"I'm not going to be one of them."

He nodded, then stood and locked the door behind him again. "Pack a bag. We're not staying."

She hesitated. "Where will we go?"

"Somewhere he can't follow."

Lena rose slowly. "Callum..."

He turned.

"Are you sure this is about me?"

The question caught him off guard.

"I mean," she continued, "Owen's not just after me. He wants you. You're the one who took everything from him, right?"

Callum stepped closer. "He lost everything because of his own choices. He blames me because it's easier than looking in a mirror."

Lena looked away. "He said something else."

"What?"

"He said I'd find out what footage comes next."

Callum's chest tightened. "We destroy anything that comes our way."

"You can't destroy what's already been sent," she said quietly. "If it's out there, it's out there."

He paused, then stepped forward, gently cupping her cheek. "Then we get ahead of it. We go public. Control the story before he can weaponize it."

Her eyes widened. "You want to go public now?"

"I wanted to protect you, Lena. But hiding is only helping him. I think it's time the world sees the truth."

She searched his face. "And if the world turns on us?"

"Then let it." He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. "I'd rather stand in fire with you than hide in the dark alone."

She kissed him-hard, fierce, aching.

A minute later, she disappeared into the bedroom to pack.

Callum turned to his phone.

He dialed a number he hadn't used in years.

The voice on the other end was crisp. Female. British. "Callum?"

"I need a favor," he said.

A pause. "This isn't the type of line you call unless you're being followed or blackmailed."

"Both," he said. "Can you still scrub metadata from physical footage? Deep surveillance files?"

"I'm expensive."

"I'll pay anything."

Another pause.

"I'll meet you tomorrow. Send coordinates."

He ended the call and stared at the screen.

The walls were closing in.

Owen wasn't just sending threats.

He was building a narrative.

And if Callum didn't act fast, the world would believe it.

From the bedroom, Lena's voice broke the silence.

"Callum."

He walked in.

She stood by the open suitcase, holding a manila envelope. She hadn't packed it. It had been placed in her luggage.

He took it from her slowly, his fingers trembling.

Inside were photos.

More than Lisbon.

Paris. Rome. Even New York. Dozens of them.

All from behind curtains. From under beds. From vents.

A life recorded without their consent.

And on the last page-one photograph.

Callum, years ago, with Owen. Arms slung over each other's shoulders. Younger. Smiling. Before everything fractured.

On the back, a note scrawled in the same blue ink:

We both know who the camera loves more.

Callum dropped the photo like it burned.

Lena stepped closer, her voice hard now. "We leave tonight. I don't care where. I don't care how."

He nodded.

And somewhere outside the window, unseen but certain, a camera's red light blinked once... then faded into black.